The In-Law
by A. Kingsleigh
Summary: As Joaquin and Ixa prepare for their wedding day, the old Señora Mondragon has some advice to pass on to the new one. A short piece about Joaquin's mother. LND continuity.


**I got the idea for this after reading a Tumblr friend's fic about Joaquin and his mom. I thought it would be fun to do my own version of her and examine her from a slightly different perspective. So I took a throwaway line from TS&amp;TSD and expanded on it. Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

* * *

Joaquin did not speak often of his mother. When he did, it was with darting eyes and a slight tremble in his voice.

Ixa had managed to wring the basic details out of him over time: her name was Gertrude, she lived far away in a city ("like San Angel, but a lot bigger," her friends said), and she had returned there when Joaquin's father had passed. Her son would stop by to visit her on his travels, and whenever he came, she never smiled and hardly said a word.

_But she was smiling in the picture,_ Ixa thought. Something deep within her must have changed, or else she would not have left. It confounded the young woman, as did the thought of someone who hardly ever spoke. Everyone felt like speaking some of the time, didn't they?

The more she thought about Gertrude Mondragon, the more intrigued she became. _I shall meet you someday,_ she decided. _I will see to it._

* * *

She was the one who suggested that they ask Gertrude to come to the wedding. "Your family ought to be there, should they not?" It would be a fine time for mother and son alike, and satisfying her own curiosity would merely be part of it.

The protests began more quickly than she had expected. "Your family won't be there."

"I'm supposed to be a Sanchez, remember?"

"Mom doesn't get out much, you know," he continued, looking away. "She's usually pretty busy. With stuff."

"You said she would come to see you sometimes."

"Yeah, but it's been a few years since she's done that. She might not have the time."

"Then we shall help her make the time." Ixa placed a hand on his cheek and turned his face around, making him look at her. "Please, Joaquin. It shall be an important day for her as well. We must not leave her out."

His face fell, and he looked at his hands. "She's never come when I asked her to."

"She will this time. Surely she would not be so cruel as to ignore you on your wedding day."

He sighed, but then nodded. "Okay. I'll send her a note."

Ixa smiled and hugged him. "You shall see."

* * *

It was nothing special, merely the invitation they had sent out to all the guests. Brief, simple, impersonal. "Do you think we should have done something more?" Ixa asked once it was on its way.

"It'll be fine. She doesn't like special attention much these days."

For several days, long after it should have arrived at Mexico City, there was no answer. Each silent day that passed was another day Ixa held her breath. Perhaps she had been wrong after all.

Then, out of the blue, there was a telegram. No thanks or warm words, just the day her train would arrive and the time they were to expect her. The date and the hour came very soon - too soon for Joaquin, it seemed.

He held Ixa's hand as they stood on the station platform, and when he saw the engine on the horizon, his grip tightened. "It will be alright," she whispered, squeezing back.

They watched the train slow and stop, scanned the crowd of disembarking passengers as they filed by. She did not appear, not until the cars were nearly empty.

A tall, thin figure stepped down from the last car, shrouded by smoke. She walked through the haze, her gait slow and stately. She carried a single black suitcase, and she held it close as she nodded at the two of them.

Joaquin gulped. "Um…hi, Mom."

Ixa stiffened and took a step closer to him. Joaquin had used the word "cold" a number of times to describe his mother, but now it seemed like an understatement.

The woman looked as though she could have been carved from ice. Her skin was smooth and her features unmoving. Her hands were clasped in front of her. There was not a wrinkle to be seen in her long, narrow, black dress. Her brown hair stuck straight up from her head, laced with threads of gray and white. Her small mouth was turned in a frown, and her wrinkles seemed to drag it down further. She stared at Joaquin and Ixa with piercing gray eyes, waiting for them to speak first.

Joaquin cleared his throat. "The coach is out front. I-I can carry that if you - "

Gertrude brushed past him without a word, and he numbly followed.

She did not speak when they piled into the coach, not even when they were rolling through the desert. She only looked out the window at the passing landscape, the dark green curtains casting a shadow on her sullen face.

"This is rather sudden." She spoke in a whisper, and it seemed deafening.

Joaquin shrugged. "I told you about her."

"But not of your intentions." Her voice was louder now. It was still soft and restrained, and each word that drifted from her lips had a purpose.

"We have known each other for many months now," Ixa replied, managing a smile. "We are certain of this."

Gertrude looked at her, her eyes briefly glittering. "What was your name again?"

"Ixa."

"I desire a word with you when we reach town, Ixa. A word in private."

"…If that is what you would like." Maybe she'd get lucky and the woman would forget by then.

Instead, Gertrude's gaze remained fixed on the couple for the rest of the trip. It did not waver for more than a second, and when the coach finally shuddered to a stop in front of Casa de Mondragon, she was at Ixa's side. The girl tried to mumble some excuse to slip away, but Gertrude wrapped an arm around hers. "I shall not keep you long."

"I thought you might want to settle in first - "

"That can wait." She set down her luggage in the foyer and ascended the staircase, Ixa trailing behind.

"I don't know this place anymore," Gertrude muttered to herself as the women walked through the halls. "Where will we not be disturbed?"

"The sitting room, perhaps," Ixa answered just as they passed the double doors.

Gertrude froze. "…He unlocked the sitting room?"

"When he asked me to marry him."

Gertrude stared at the wood in an apparent daze. "I know."

"He told you about it?"

"He's like his father." She took a breath, pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

Ixa followed, curiously watching her movements. The older woman ran a hand along the fireplace mantle, traced the patterns in the upholstery on the chairs, glanced up at the portrait on the wall and quickly back down again.

"So." She looked back at Ixa. "Where exactly did you come from?"

"…The city."

Gertrude raised her eyebrows, a sudden motion that nearly made Ixa jump. "I did not know Carlos had family in the city."

"I fear I did not go around much."

"Hmm." Gertrude drummed her fingers on the back of a chair, but did not move to sit. "You met him when you moved here."

"Yes."

"How?"

"I helped treat his wounds after a fight." It was a relief to finally be saying something that was technically true. "He bore the pain well. He was very brave."

"He always was." She began to move towards Ixa. "Do you love my son? Would you marry him even if he had nothing?"

"Of course. I don't see why I should not."

"And does he love you?"

"He says he loves me with all his heart, and - " She yelped as Gertrude suddenly grabbed her hand. "Have I said something wrong?"

"Do not forget that he loves you." Her eyes had suddenly gone desperate, almost wild. "Do not forget that his love is the most precious thing he can give to you. Think of it every day, and tell him that you treasure it. Whenever he thinks he must be more, because he will, you must remind him that he is enough. Please, will you do that for me?"

She thought of Joaquin, of the way he looked at her with gratitude whenever she did something as simple as remove his eyepatch, smile at a story or laugh at a joke. "I will," she answered, nodding slowly.

Gertrude let go of her hand, seemed to relax. For a moment, Ixa thought she even smiled. "Good," she said. "Perhaps you'll turn out better, then…"

"Better than what?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter anymore."

* * *

The words were still with Ixa when she found Joaquin looking over plans for decorating the chapel. A sudden thought came to her, and she hugged him from behind. "I don't think we need so many flowers in the church, love."

He looked up, confused. "But you like flowers."

"We don't want anything that might tempt my eyes away from you, now would we?"

Joaquin smiled. "Whatever you want."

"I have you. I want for nothing."

He grinned and laughed in the way he did when he was happier than he let on, then pulled her in and kissed her.

She did not stop wondering what Gertrude had meant by her last few words, but now it did not trouble her as much. She and Joaquin would turn out more than just "better," she'd see to that. How could they not? Besides, it would please her to see the old woman proved right.

_She's not that bad once you get used to her._


End file.
